


Chance Met

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Chance Met Trilogy [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unforeseen meeting between two Elves changes their lives and hearts forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Met

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them._
> 
> I wrote this story quite a while back. I did it as a lark after concluding [**_Greenleaf and Imladris_**](http://archiveofourown.org/series/68466)—a way to unwind after all the _Sturm und Drang_ of that series. It also led to the writing of a long story featuring Elladan and Glorfindel—[ ** _The Captain's Guerdon_**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1702133/chapters/3622790). So I’d like to offer this as a “snack” while I get the “main meal” ready. I hope it pleases.

Rivendell, _Narquelië-Ringarë_ T.A. 3018  
Legolas felt his heart beat faster as he watched the two horsemen dismount. It was but two months since he’d last seen them but it had seemed like eternity, such was his longing to see them once more. Or at least, the one of them.

He recalled with a shiver the first time he’d laid eyes on the twin sons of Rivendell’s lord. It was on the eve of the fateful Council of Elrond. He was reluctantly making his way to the Hall of Fire after the feast honoring the Hobbit, Frodo Baggins. He’d taken only cursory notice of the assorted guests around him. Mithrandir and Aragorn he knew from their last visit to Mirkwood; his errand to Rivendell had much to do with that visit. But the others were strangers to him and so he had felt ill at ease during the feasting.

It was then that he came upon two tall men, newly arrived and quietly so but not unmarked. Indeed, it was not possible for them to have slipped in unnoticed. Both carried themselves with fell grace, barely suppressed power radiating from their very beings. And both were beautiful beyond even the measure of Elves.

_They are Half-elves_ , Legolas suddenly realized upon closer inspection of the newcomers. Their leaf-shaped ears marked them as sprung from the Firstborn, as did their lean yet muscular frames. Yet there was a solidity to their limbs and a broadness to their shoulders that hinted at blood other than pure elven in their veins. Just like Master Elrond. That’s when Legolas comprehended that these were the fabled twin sons of the Lord of Rivendell. He stared at them with open interest. 

Their exploits were legendary. They were spoken of in Mirkwood with awe and respect. Riding far afield by themselves or with the Rangers of the North, they had explored nearly all of the north and had ventured as far south as Rohan and Gondor, always hunting down Orcs as they went with ruthless efficiency, never forgetting their mother’s suffering at the hands of the creatures. It was said they had even journeyed into the hostile realms of Rhûn and Harad, mingling with those lands’ people unrecognized, thus exceeding Aragorn in the extent of their travels. Even now it was evident that they had just returned from errantry.

They were attired entirely in black, even to the leather bracers on their arms and their sturdy riding boots. Their midnight-hued mantles billowed around them with every whiff of the strong breeze that passed through the open corridor. They had bound their long raven tresses in thick single plaits in the manner of humans.

Elrond and Aragorn were with them while Glorfindel stood close to one side. One of the twins began to speak with his father and foster brother in earnest. The other let his eyes sweep the corridor, a speculative gleam in their depths as he observed the various beings that either hastened to the Hall of Fire or lingered in their vicinity out of curiosity. Without warning, his gaze alighted on Legolas.

The prince’s breath caught under that silvery regard. His heart began to pound wildly, why he did not know. He did his best to return the gaze as steadily as possible. The twilight grey eyes considered him a while longer then turned away, releasing him abruptly from their spell. But not for long. The twin addressed his father and Elrond suddenly looked at Legolas. With a smile, he beckoned to the prince to approach.

Legolas took a deep breath and obeyed. Once more the silvery gaze was upon him and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

“My Lord,” he murmured when he came to them.

Elrond drew him closer to his sons. “This is Legolas of Mirkwood, Thranduil’s youngest,” the Elvenlord said. “Legolas, may I present my sons, Elladan and Elrohir.”

_Elrohir._ Elf-knight. Star-rider. Whichever meaning one chose to attach to the name, it suited him well. Legolas thought it most apt. As comely and bestirring as its owner, he mused distractedly.

“We are honored to meet you, Legolas Thranduilion,” Elladan said gravely.

“And I, you,” Legolas replied somewhat diffidently.

He could not help the faint blush that touched his cheeks when Elrohir pinned him with his pewter gaze and said, “Welcome to Imladris, Prince of Mirkwood. I trust you find our valley pleasing?”

Legolas nodded, unable to respond upon hearing the Elf-lord’s voice for the first time. Low, melodious, soothing in a strangely sensual way. Odd, it was not at all unlike his brother’s yet the sound of his voice alone affected the archer deeply. _What is happening to me?_ Legolas confusedly wondered.

At this point, Elrond bid Aragorn to join him in the Hall of Fire and the two departed. Immediately after, Glorfindel laid a hand on Elladan’s arm. The older twin gave him a small smile, nodded and went with him in the direction of the residential wing of the house. That left Legolas alone, and nervously so, with the younger twin.

“What brings you to Imladris?” Elrohir queried.

“I bear a message from my father,” Legolas replied.

“His message must be urgent for him to have sent his own son,” the Elf-warrior remarked.

Legolas was startled by the other Elf’s perceptiveness. He nodded in agreement. “Aye, it is,” he admitted. The warmth in the twin’s eyes encouraged him to be more forthcoming. “I had hoped to deliver it to your father in private, but he has bidden me to attend the Council tomorrow and speak of it then.”

Elrohir smiled slightly. The sight unsettled Legolas even further. He had not thought it possible for the twin to be any more comely.

“As to that, there will be few secrets after the Council, I wager,” Elrohir commented. “Declare your errand tomorrow, my prince. Do not let the assembly cow you.”

“How did you—” Legolas flushed. They’d only just been introduced and already Elrohir had discerned the reason behind his reserve.

The twin’s smile turned kind and understanding. “I know you have seldom travelled beyond your realm’s borders,” he said. “‘Tis natural that you should feel inhibited amongst so many strangers on this first trip to Imladris.”

Legolas smiled back shyly. “You are right, my lord,” he started to say.

“Elrohir.”

Legolas hesitated then obeyed. “Elrohir.” He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue. “I had not thought to be surrounded by high lords and legends,” he went on. “I confess I was not prepared.”

“Yet you are a prince of the Woodland Realm,” Elrohir pointed out. “As much a high lord as any present here.”

Legolas felt his heart warm at the other’s reassuring manner. “Thank you—Elrohir,” he said.

Again that unsettling smile. “Were you heading for the Hall of Fire?” the Elf-lord asked. “If so, I did not mean to keep you.”

The Mirkwood prince shook his head. “Not at all. Indeed, I was not certain of my course this evening but it seemed that everyone was going there...” He trailed off awkwardly.

“And so you felt obliged to follow suit,” Elrohir concluded for him. “Do not feel thusly, Legolas. If you would rather retire to your room you are free to do so. I imagine you would prefer the time to yourself before the council tomorrow.”

Legolas nodded in relief. “Aye, I would prefer that.” He hesitated then dared to ask albeit shyly: “And you? Will you attend the Council?”

“In a manner of speaking.” The Elvenlord held out his hand. Without thinking, Legolas held out his and found it clasped in a gentle yet powerful grip. “Good night then, Prince of Mirkwood. Until tomorrow,”

And then he was striding away to his own chamber leaving an utterly enthralled woodland prince to stare after him.

* * * *

As Legolas made his way to the wide porch where the Council would take place, he pondered how to convey the news he bore; wondered if he would be able to do it without flinching at Mithrandir and Aragorn’s expected displeasure. As he came to the large arched door leading out to the porch, he peered out somewhat diffidently at the gathered assembly. Elves, Men and Dwarves mingled as they awaited the arrival of the Hobbits. Legolas sighed. 

He may have been a prince of the blood but he was also just a Wood-elf with no great experience in matters of such import. Drawing a resigned breath, he made to step out onto the open terrace when a hand clasped him by the shoulder, startling him. He sharply turned his head and found himself staring into Elrohir’s silver-hued eyes.

“I trust you slept well?” the twin inquired with a slightly amused smile.

“Aye, the air of your valley seems to agree with me,” Legolas replied, feeling a flutter of pleasure at seeing the Elf-knight again.

He glanced behind Elrohir; noted Elladan seated on a bench half-hidden by the overhanging foliage that brightened the terrace. The older twin was speaking with Glorfindel and paid him no mind. He turned his attention back to Elrohir.

“Last night,” he said. “You mentioned attending the Council...‘in a manner of speaking.’ What did you mean by that?”

Elrohir chuckled and said: “Ah, so you noticed that. You are observant, my prince.” He smiled again as a blush stained the archer’s cheeks. “Elladan and I will attend but few will mark our presence. We will not sit openly in council.”

“Why not?” Legolas asked perplexed.

“‘Tis easier to study others when they are unaware that they are being watched,” Elrohir explained. “Our father will have need of this knowledge if his decisions are to be made wisely.”

Just then, Mithrandir appeared with the two Hobbits, Bilbo and Frodo, and Elrond went to greet them. While they spoke, Elrohir signed to one of his father’s counsellors to lead Legolas to a seat. As the advisor came forward to comply, the Elf-lord bowed slightly to the prince then moved away to sit with his brother.

Relieved at first to be spared close proximity to the twin’s disturbing presence, Legolas soon had reason to rue the seating arrangement. For Elrohir sat directly in his line of vision and would now and anon regard him with his compelling twilight gaze. Only by resolutely looking anywhere but to his front did the Elven prince find the wherewithal to follow the course of the meeting that followed and make sense of it.

Yet it was Elrohir’s encouraging demeanor that spurred him to deliver his father’s message at the opportune moment. And ‘twas the twin’s silent support that helped him bear the tacit disappointment of Aragorn upon learning that the Wood-elves had allowed the creature, Gollum, to escape.

Elrohir approached him afterwards.

“You led those who guarded the creature,” he quietly said. Legolas’ flush confirmed his surmise. “‘Tis why your father sent you here.”

Legolas sighed. “I failed him,” he murmured. “I failed everyone.”

“Nay, do not take the blame upon yourself,” Elrohir gently chided him. “The forces that conspire to destroy this Middle-earth of ours are stronger and more treacherous than we can even begin to imagine. ‘Twas not your fault, Legolas, anymore than ‘twas mine or Elladan’s fault that our mother was taken by Orcs.”

It was this kindness that sealed the budding infatuation in Legolas’ heart into full-fledged feeling. But before he could voice his gratitude, Elladan and Aragorn came up to them.

“Come, _muindor_ ”—brother—“we must away,” the older twin said. “Estel needs our help.”

Elrohir nodded. “In a moment, _gwaniaur_ ”—older twin—he replied. He turned back to Legolas. 

The prince was dismayed. “But you have just arrived,” he said in shock. “Surely you have earned the right to some rest?”

Elrohir smiled and shook his head. “Not in these troubled times,” he said. “I am glad to have met you, Legolas. Farewell for now.”

Legolas swallowed hard. He suddenly found it difficult to see the Elf-lord leave.

“Farewell,” he whispered, unable to trust his voice. “May Elbereth protect you.”

He kept his eyes on Elrohir until the warrior disappeared from sight.

* * * *

Now they were returned. _He_ was returned. Legolas felt his heart clench painfully. _I have never loved before_ , he thought. _Not any of the_ ellith _I took to my bed or any of the_ ellyn _who sought to win me. Yet here I am pining for one I have only just met and barely know. Why has this happened to me?_

The twins reported directly to their father; they were long in Elrond’s study before they finished whatever tales they bore. Legolas was passing the chamber on his way back to his room when they suddenly emerged. He stepped back startled, rendered breathless as much by Elrohir’s presence as by their sudden appearance.

“Legolas!” the younger twin smiled in greeting. “How fare you, my prince?”

“Well enough,” he answered shyly, conscious of Elladan’s thoughtful regard. “And you? I trust your journey was fruitful?” he managed to say.

It was Elladan who answered. “Enough for our purposes,” he said. He glanced with some amusement at his brother. “I will see you later, _tôr neth_.”—younger brother. “Glorfindel awaits me.” He strode off toward the Eldarin captain’s quarters.

Elrohir looked back at the prince. “Walk with me, Legolas,” he invited. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Legolas acquiesced. He wondered what the twin might have to say to him.

“ _Adar_ ”—Father—“says you have agreed to accompany the hobbit on his Quest,” Elrohir said.

“I did,” Legolas admitted.

“To make amends for Gollum’s escape?”

Legolas flinched inwardly. Elrohir seemed to know his mind better than he himself did. The Elf-lord noticed his unease.

“I am not chastising you for your choice,” he quietly rejoined. “‘Tis not for me to judge you or your actions.”

“Then why speak of it?” Legolas queried, a touch of hurt in his tone.

“Because I am troubled that you would risk your life for the least of reasons,” Elrohir honestly said. “If you will join this undertaking, do it for the Ring-bearer and the future of Middle-earth. Only then will you feel at peace with yourself and shed the burden of your supposed guilt.”

They came to the twin’s chamber. Legolas’ discomfort had grown with Elrohir’s last words. His throat tight, he made to leave without saying anything but Elrohir caught his arm.

“Forgive me if I sounded harsh,” the warrior gently said. “I meant no offense to you.” He opened the door and gestured for the prince to enter. “I would like your company if you would grant it.”

Legolas hesitated. But the temptation to see the Elf-lord’s private quarters proved too strong to resist. The shy smile returning to his lips, he nodded and preceded the younger twin into the chamber.

It was large but not overly so and filled with light and airiness. And it bore the stamp of Elrohir’s personality. From the solid but graceful furnishings to the dark and somber colors to the gossamer yet concealing draperies that graced the windows and balcony. And even after his long absence, his distinctive scent pervaded the room. A combination of pine and leather and the sweet, fresh aromas of the valley itself. It was a potent combination. 

Conscious of his reaction to mere scent alone, Legolas studiously ignored the wide four-poster bed in the center of the room lest it give him improper ideas, which in turn might very well lead to more inconvenient responses from his suddenly wayward body.

“Pour yourself some wine,” Elrohir offered as he pulled off his cloak. He opened the exquisitely carved wardrobe to fetch fresh clothing.

Legolas did so then sat down on one of the comfortable armchairs that formed a sitting area to one side of the chamber. He nearly choked on his first sip, however, when Elrohir, unmindful of his presence, stripped off his bracers, tunic, shirt and boots, leaving him in naught but his long breeches. 

The prince swallowed hard at this sight of the twin’s half-bared form. No matter his expectations, he was still unprepared for Elrohir’s magnificence. His cheeks began to burn even as heat pooled in his groin.

Elrohir glanced at him and noticed his reddened cheeks and lowered eyes. He grinned in comprehension.

“Would you mind if I took a quick bath?” he asked. “I won’t be long.”

Legolas simply shook his head, undone even further by the thought of the warrior bathing just a few steps away. He held himself steady as the Elf-knight disappeared into the bathing chamber.

_What is wrong with me?_ he thought disgustedly. _I can’t be in love with him. Not so soon._

But the memory of his restlessness during Elrohir’s two-month absence gave the lie to his insistence. He sat back in helpless misery. He could no longer deny it. In the space of a day, the younger twin had awakened something in him previously untouched by any other. Somehow, their spirits had touched and his had come to desire the other.

He wanted Elrohir. Nay, he loved him. As impossible as that seemed, he knew that to be the truth. His misery deepened.

Woodland prince notwithstanding, he was not the equal of the younger son of Elrond. The exalted lineage of the Peredhil was known to all the Firstborn and each member of that family was highly revered. Who was he to aspire to such a lofty match? A mere Sindarin prince not even a millennium into life and one who had never gone further from the borders of his father’s kingdom than the human city of Esgaroth to the east of Mirkwood.

The sound of splashing water reached his ears. He tried to quell the perfidious urge that rose within him but it was simply too compelling. Giving in, he rose and stealthily walked to the arched entrance leading to the bathing chamber. Peering surreptitiously around the doorframe, he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Elrohir was just stepping into the slightly sunken bathing tub, the raven silk of his hair loose about his shoulders and back. For a full minute or so, Legolas had an unimpeded view of the Elf-lord in his full glory. 

The prince hastily stepped away from the door, his breathing becoming labored in visceral reaction to Elrohir’s fair form. _I have to get out of here_ , he thought in a panic. _Else I will do something foolish and lose even his friendly regard for me._

“Legolas?”

He nearly stopped breathing. Steeling himself, he neared the door once more and looked in hesitantly. Now covered to the waist in the warm bathwater, Elrohir was looking directly at him.

“There is no need to peek,” the Elf-knight said. “Come in.”

Legolas stared at him in shock. How had he known?

“Legolas.”

Unable to resist the pull of Elrohir’s voice, the Elf-prince entered the bathing chamber and slowly dropped to his knees at the side of the tub. Elrohir was gazing at him thoughtfully.

“What is wrong, my prince?” he asked.

Legolas shook his head. “There isn’t—”

“You are hiding something from me.” A hand reached out and he felt his chin lifted until he met the other’s stare. He had not realized he’d lowered his eyes until then. He looked into the depths of the silvery pools and suddenly felt as if his whole life was being laid out for the Elf-lord’s perusal. 

That’s when he felt it. The gentle probing that did not quite intrude yet perceived so much.

He pulled away, breathing unevenly, but discovered he could not rise to his feet for Elrohir had a firm grip on his hand.

“Please, let me go,” he whispered.

“Not until you tell me what troubles you.”

Legolas swallowed hard again. “Why should you concern yourself with my problems?” he shakily protested.

“Because I have much to do with whatever disturbs you,” Elrohir replied calmly. “Do not try to deny it. I saw it in your eyes.”

Legolas stared at him in dismay. “I cannot tell you,” he said pleadingly.

“Cannot or will not?” When the prince failed to respond immediately, the younger twin nodded understandingly. “Do not leave,” he quietly said. “I will join you soonest.”

He released the archer and reached for the soap on the side of the tub. 

Legolas stumbled to his feet and hurried out of the bathing room. His first impulse was to flee Elrohir’s chamber. But strangely he could not. The Elf-lord’s quiet request stayed him as effectively as a barred door. Unthinkingly, he sank down on the end of the bed and waited as he had been bid.

He started when Elrohir finally emerged from the other room. 

The Elf-knight had thrown a robe over his tall frame but it did nothing to conceal the well-built body it was supposed to protect from prying eyes. His locks clung to his neck and shoulders in damp tendrils of shining sable. Legolas averted his gaze, his cheeks flaming anew. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the mattress dip slightly as Elrohir sat down beside him.

“Legolas?” Again that gentle, almost unbearably kind tone. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Legolas shut his eyes tightly. _What does it matter?_ he thought forlornly. _I will be leaving in a few days time on a journey from which I may very well not return. What is there to lose?_

He bit his lip to still its trembling. “I fear I have developed...feelings for you that might be considered...unseemly,” he eventually whispered.

Silence followed his confession. He wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“You hardly know me,” Elrohir said at length. “How can you love me?”

Legolas winced at the other’s directness. “I do not know how or why. I just know that I do.” 

He sighed disconsolately. Another round of silence passed. 

“‘Tis curious that you should feel this way,” Elrohir finally murmured. “Or that I should feel as you do.”

Legolas’ breath hitched in his throat. Shocked, he turned his head to stare at the darkling Elf. The depths of Elrohir’s eyes were brimming with deep-felt emotion.

“I—you can’t—” the prince sputtered incoherently.

Elrohir silenced him with a kiss. Legolas gasped and found his mouth invaded with heart stopping ardor. Reason fled his mind as the Elf-knight proceeded to deepen the caress, delving and pillaging with deceptive gentleness until he was shuddering under the tender assault. He moaned as the contact ended. Opening his eyes he looked into argent pools of immeasurable desire.

“I love you,” Elrohir whispered with a frankness that stole the very breath from the prince’s breast. “From the moment I first saw you, I wanted to make you mine. Like you, I do not know how or why.” The pewter eyes dimmed momentarily. “Nor do I know how I will endure it when you leave on this Quest.”

Legolas gazed at him, his heart pounding madly. A wild joy took him unawares. He surrendered to it and threw prudence to the wind.

“Then make me yours before I go,” he murmured, raising shaking fingers to stroke the Elf-knight’s sculpted jaw. “I would draw strength and courage from you, Elrohir.”

Arms like bands of steel enclosed him in an instant and he was borne down upon the bed. Strong, supple fingers swiftly undid clasps, untied lacings and soon divested him of every stitch of clothing. The twin’s robe suffered the same fate as the prince’s raiment and with just as much haste.

Legolas gasped as Elrohir covered his body with his. It was so different from lying with a woman. His eyes widened at the sensation of hardness and power pinning him down; he involuntarily tensed as their groins met and their shafts touched.

Elrohir gazed at him wonderingly. “Have you never lain with an _ellon_?”—male Elf—he asked.

Legolas shook his head. “Only with maids,” he whispered.

“‘Tis difficult to believe that no male has ever claimed one as stunning as you,” the twin murmured, trailing a finger across one elegant cheekbone, his eyes darkening at the sight of silver-gold tresses spilling upon the snowy sheet.

Legolas was astounded that Elrohir should think him worthy of such praise. He’d always thought his position as one of Thranduil’s sons to be the reason for other Elves’ pursuit of him.

“I am not—” His denial was cut off by a breath-stealing kiss.

Suddenly, Elrohir’s hands and lips were everywhere. Seeking, touching, claiming. Legolas soon discovered himself incapable of serious thought beyond his willing despoilment. 

Covetous lips sucked at the column of his white throat, plucked at the roseate nipples on his sleekly muscled chest, nibbled at the rippled planes of his taut belly. Knowing hands stroked his heaving flanks, ghosted along the silken lines were groin joined thigh, before one parted his legs and the other took hold of his now throbbing length.

Legolas groaned as he was caressed with slow, sure strokes. And then, when he least expected it, Elrohir ran his tongue along the turgid column before enclosing it in the moist warmth of his mouth. Legolas reared in shock, a gasping cry escaping his lips.

Elrohir quickly discerned his inexperience in this manner of pleasuring and gentled his pace. But even then he soon had Legolas trembling helplessly as the rapturous pressure steadily built within him until, finally, he shuddered his release into the twin’s mouth, sobbing as Elrohir milked him dry of every last drop of his seed.

The prince fell back, drained. He did not realize what an enticing sight he made, lying limply upon the sheets, his body an exquisite offering to the Elf-lord’s desire. And he was unwound. So unwound that it was a simple matter for Elrohir to slicken his fingers with his seed and slip them behind and into the prince’s quiescent form.

Legolas’ eyes shot open as he felt the intrusion and he instinctively tried to pull away. But Elrohir wedged himself between the archer’s thighs and pushed his fingers in deeper until he located what he was seeking and proceeded to stroke it from within. The Elven prince moaned as purest pleasure snaked its way from his groin to the very reaches of his hands and feet. He stared at Elrohir dazedly.

“Please, I—oh, Valar, finish it now, Elrohir, or I shall go mad!” he implored.

A positively wicked smile lit the warrior’s countenance. “As you wish, forest prince,” he murmured rakishly.

He withdrew his fingers and guided the prince’s long legs up and around his waist, pulled the lean hips closer to rest against his groin. When he pressed into Legolas, he saw the understandable apprehension in the archer’s blue eyes.

“It may burn a little, my Greenleaf,” he softly said. “But I promise you, it will pass swiftly.”

Legolas tingled with pleasure at the endearment. “I do not care. Make me yours, Elrohir,” he whispered.

Elrohir groaned at the prince’s words of complete surrender. With one sure thrust, he mounted the fair-haired Elf, sheathing himself in the archer’s velvet heat. He held still, waiting for Legolas to adjust to the breaching of his body.

As Elrohir had warned, it did burn. His untried body protested its sudden piercing. But as Elrohir had also promised, it soon began to subside as he adjusted to the twin’s hard flesh within him. The blazing ecstasy of their joining effectively blunted any remaining discomfort. He lifted his gaze to the Elf-knight. No longer afraid to admit his feelings, he let his love shine brightly through the azure pools of his eyes.

Elrohir caught his breath at the sheer beauty of the Elf beneath him. More than ever he felt the need to claim Legolas for his own. Unwonted gladness rose within him at the knowledge that he alone of any _ellon_ had ever coupled with the prince. He’d never cared about his erstwhile lovers’ previous partners, male or female, Elf or mortal. Strange that he should care now. But then he’d never loved any that he’d bedded before.

He began to drive into the prince, angling for the same place he’d earlier stroked with his fingers. The effect on Legolas was immediate. The prince writhed wildly under him, pushing against him in an effort to take more of him into his body. Elrohir groaned at the almost unbearably sweet sensation. 

Hissing with the effort to keep his body’s demand for release in check, he curled his hand around the prince’s reawakened length and began to stroke it. He smiled as Legolas started to breathe sobbingly at the sheer pleasure of it.

“For the love of Arda, finish it, Elrohir!” he deliriously implored.

Laughing softly at his impatience, Elrohir leaned down and brushed his lips against the prince’s mouth. Legolas promptly wrapped his arms around the Elf-knight’s shoulders to pull him closer, hungrily deepening the kiss until they were both gasping erratically. He growled protestingly when Elrohir drew away only to moan when the Elf-knight moved lower to suckle at the base of his throat. And then the warrior drove hard and deep into him while his hand caressed his length with firm and rapid strokes.

Completion swept over Legolas with all the force of a gale and he cried out hoarsely as pleasure coursed through him in near blinding waves. He was beyond coherence now, his body obeying its need to seek and reach the peaks of rapture it was capable of. His muscles clenched spasmodically around Elrohir’s proud length, further heightening the sensations wrought by his release, his seed gushing anew between them. 

Elrohir’s name became a litany he uttered over and over again in his rapture. He heard his own name growled possessively as the twin came to his own culmination, spilling his warm seed deep within Legolas’ willing flesh.

And then they were collapsing in a sensuous tangle of slender limbs. Elrohir smoothly withdrew from the prince even as he rolled over and pulled Legolas into his arms, letting him rest his golden head upon his shoulder. He held his lover close, stroking the flaxen locks as he waited for his breathing to slow and his heart to calm.

Then...“Stay with me, Greenleaf. Share with me what days remain to us.”

Legolas lifted his head and looked at his beloved. “I will,” he whispered. His eyes suddenly brimmed with moisture. “Had I known how you felt I would never have—” He swallowed the tightness in his throat, his warrior’s pride refusing to let him weep. “How can I say farewell to you, my Twilight?”

Elrohir’s eyes gleamed at the affectionate name.

“We will be parted only for a while, _seron vell_ ”—beloved—he said. At the other’s questioning gaze he added, “Do not ask me how I know, I simply do. We will be with each other again.”

A hopeful glitter lit the prince’s watery eyes. “I fervently hope you are right. Until then, will you love me every day until I leave?’

Elrohir smiled tenderly at him. “I will love you every day of your life, my Legolas. I will love you for eternity.”

Legolas buried his face in the twin’s neck, burrowing deeply into his embrace. Eternity. Even eternity would be too short a time to know the full bliss of Elrohir’s love, he mused. Who would have thought that his shameful failure in Mirkwood would lead to this felicitous state of affairs?

“Rest. I would have you ready for more loving,” he heard Elrohir huskily say.

Legolas chuckled breathily and raised his fair head to gaze at the twin, prickles of desire already simmering upon his flesh. “I need no rest,” he whispered. “I am more than ready for your loving, Elrohir. I will always be ready.”

The silvery eyes darkened and the sinuous lips curled into a perilous smile. With one smooth twist of their bodies, Elrohir had Legolas pinned beneath him once more.

“I will take your word for it,” he murmured, his lips dipping to partake of teasing draughts of the prince’s mouth.

“Please do,” Legolas sighed happily and succumbed anew to his Elf-knight’s enthralling skill.

********************  
Glossary:  
Narquelië and Ringarë – Quenya for October and December  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil  
ellith – Elf-maids  
ellyn – male Elves

The End


End file.
